


There are no counts in America (Only princes)

by lisachan



Series: Leoverse [295]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29381934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisachan/pseuds/lisachan
Summary: Alex is working as a waiter in Florence's American Diner, and tonight he gets to serve a very peculiar customer.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Leoverse [295]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/30541
Kudos: 1
Collections: COWT - Clash Of the Writing Titans/Chronicles Of Words and Trials





	There are no counts in America (Only princes)

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING:** This story is an **AU** from the original 'verse. What happens in here has little to none correlation with what happens in Leonard Karofsky-Hummel VS The world or Broken Heart Syndrome. The characters involved are (mostly) the same, but situations and relationships between them may be completely different.

“They say he’s an American count,” Viola says, sliding on her rollers into the kitchen, “I swear he looks gorgeous.”

“Vio, don’t be an idiot,” Neri groans, fixing his red suspenders, “There are no American counts. Americans can’t be counts, they don’t have royalty.”

“What does that even mean?” Viola pouts, her hands on her hips, skating back and forth not to keep still while she waits for her orders to be out of the kitchen, “Of course Americans have royalty. They come from England, originally, don’t they?”

“They were all beggars and thieves, those who were sent there to settle! Why don’t you ever study your history? Americans _defied_ the monarchy, they rebelled against it, why would they have counts?!”

“Well, if I were a count here, and I had to move somewhere else for whatever reason, I would still call myself a count! That would still make me a count, even if I hated the king or something!”

“Oh God, you are ridiculous and an idiot.”

“And you are obnoxious, and I hate you!”

Artemide rolls her eyes and turns back towards Alex, who’s lacing up his rollers, ignoring his friends bickering in the background. She’s shop manager for the night, because she’s been a waiter here at the American Diner in Florence the longest – as a matter of fact, she was the one who brought them all here, one by one; she’s been here long enough that no one minds her anachronistically dark make up, the purple lipstick and bright neon pink eyeshadow, nor does anyone mind her dyed purple-stranded hair, even though she looks opposite to what waitresses are supposed to look like in this restaurant – and her boss, Mirella, is sick at home.

“Alex,” she says, “You go get this random count’s order, please. I can’t send either of those two,” she sighs, pointing her thumb at Neri and Viola, still fighting behind her, “They’d no doubt make a fool out of themselves, asking him point-blank if he’s a count or not.”

Alex smirks and skates a couple times in circles around her. “What makes you think I won’t?” he asks, rolling out of the kitchen and back out into the restaurant. He swiftly skates through couches and tables, avoiding kids running around and people with their bladders bursting with coke heading straight for the restroom, and it doesn’t take him much to find the right guy.

He’s the only one in the whole restaurant sill reading through the menu. Blonde and tan and fit and gorgeous, he sits at his table alone, wearing clothes obviously more expensive than anyone else with the same ease, Alex imagines, with which he’d wear his pajamas.

He’s got rings on his fingers, Alex can’t help but notice. One is pretty big, with a golden crest carved on top of it.

“So it’s true,” he says, braking inches away from his table, “You really are royalty.”

The guy blinks slowly a couple of times and turns to look at him. He’s got confident brown eyes that make Alex feel younger than he’s ever felt all his life. And more vulnerable, for some reason. Damn, this boy looks good. And he knows he does. “What makes you think that?” the guy asks, putting the menu down.

Alex gestures towards the ring on his middle finger. “Isn’t that your family crest?”

“Couldn’t it just be a ring I like? Maybe something that costed, like, three dollars on some random Etsy store?”

“You don’t look like someone who would buy shit off Etsy.”

“Why?”

“Too cheap.”

“I once found a 35 thousand dollars scorpion statue on it.”

Alex grins. “You just proved my point,” he says, “No one but royalty would search for a scorpion statue on Etsy. All of us mere mortals search for duck socks and scented candles, don’t you know that?”

The boy laughs, raising both hands. “Okay, okay, you got me,” he admits, “Don’t advertise it, though. I’m undercover.”

“Color me intrigued,” Alex switches the weight of his body from one foot to the other, skating a little forward, “How come?”

“Hm,” the boy tilts his head, a distant smile curling his lips upward, “Bad breakup. Royalty issues, I guess you’d call it. I wanted a few weeks off that shit. To live like a normal person, for a change. Hence, Florence. And my undercovering.”

“Which you’re failing,” Alex comments with a short laughter, “People under cover tend not to use rings with family crests that make them identifiable.”

The guy laughs once again. Alex finds himself liking the sound very much. “True that,” he says. And he actually takes the ring off.

Alex smiles and fetches his pad from the back pocket of his red pants. “So, what can I get you…?”

“Timmy,” the guy introduces himself, “Call me Timmy. And…” he casts Alex a glance full of promises, a glance that makes him shiver, “I guess I’ll have some tenderloin. For starters.” He grins. “Then we’ll see how the night goes.”

Alex smirks, tilting his head. “I’m not on the menu, big boy. Not even for a count.”

“Prince, actually.”

“Prince, whatever.” Then he stops for a second, blinking. “Excuse me, what?”

Timmy laughs wholeheartedly, throwing his head back. Alex follows the line of his throat as it curves on his Adam’s apple and vaguely thinks he’d be on the menu for this guy even if he was a random mister nobody. “We’ll see how the night goes,” Timmy repeats, “But I’m really in the mood for tender… loins.”

“A prince, and dirty to boot,” Alex chuckles, tapping quickly on his pad to register the order, “Who could ever want to break up with you?”

“You’d be surprised,” Timmy says.

“Oh, I truly would be,” Alex admits. “Tenderloin coming up in a few,” he says, as he skates away, “Start thinking about what you’d like for dessert, your majesty.”

Timmy just grins.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the first week of COWT #11 @ landedifandom.net  
> Prompt: M3, count


End file.
